


Inconvenient Attractions

by buckywlnchester



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Canon Continuation, Emotional Constipation, Fluff and Smut, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Light BDSM, M/M, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, hux has a lot of feelings and doesn't know what to do about them, kylo ren is a little shit, space trash boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-12 08:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5659534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckywlnchester/pseuds/buckywlnchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He falls to his knees at Ren’s side, throwing off his gloves and hovering a hand over the man’s throat. Yet he cannot bring himself to feel for Ren’s pulse, cannot bring himself to see if it is there at all. Ren has still not moved, splayed on his stomach, face down in the snow.<i></i></i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative Summary: Hux is an emotionally constipated mess who doesn't know how to deal with his feelings and Kylo Ren is just a mess in general. Phasma ships it. 
> 
> This is just some indulgent space trash boyfriends fluff. Possibly smut. I haven't decided yet. I have this about half way written already and will hopefully be updating once every few days.

The frigid air around him begins to warm as the molten core of the planet bubbles onto the surface of the Starkiller Base. The incessant beeping of the tracker does nothing but aggravate him, reminding him of just how little time he has to find Kylo Ren and drag him back to the ship. The ground shifts beneath him as another hunk of the mountain range in the distance flings itself past the planet’s thin atmosphere and into space. Despite the warmth of the planet’s core, General Hux shivers in his overcoat. He tries to push the fear and anxiety down, battling with himself to not let the stormtroopers accompanying in the search for Ren see just how worried he is about the knight.

The tracker beeps faster the closer they get. The planet’s core lights the terrain, cutting through the impossible darkness of the forest but only in brief intermissions.  He thinks he can see a shape in the distance, a black unmoving mound against the soft blue of the snow. A shock of orange light as the ground to his right separates into pieces confirms his suspicions. He throws the tracker to Captain Phasma, decidedly uncaring of what the stormtroopers will think as he runs towards Ren in the snow. 

The loss of atmosphere as the planet shudders and quakes beneath his feet leaves him dizzy and breathless. Since he had seen Ren in the snow, had started to run towards him, the knight has not moved. The anxiety builds as he gets closer, terrified yet determined to be the first to see him, to see the state Ren is in. He does not entertain thoughts of the knight’s death as he gets closer, does not and will never admit what losing the man he has unfortunately come to care for would do to him.

He falls to his knees at Ren’s side, throwing off his gloves and hovering a hand over the man’s throat. Yet he cannot bring himself to feel for Ren’s pulse, cannot bring himself to see if it is there at all. Ren has still not moved, splayed on his stomach, face down in the snow. He cannot see Ren breathe, but attributes that to the lack of light under the thick trees of the forest. He brushes his fingers through Ren’s hair, something he’s thought of doing over and over again in his room late at night. Something he’s fantasized about since the first time Ren had taken his helmet off in front of him. There was more anger and pain written in the man’s features than anyone of his age should have to experience. Hux had taken one look into those deep, darkened eyes and been arrested by emotion like he hadn’t been in years. He slowly brushes Ren’s dark curls from his neck, smoothing them out between his fingers before finally moving to check for a pulse.

He begins to panic as he realizes he cannot find one, shaking fingers frantically moving around the knight’s neck in search of any sign of life. He finally finds a shallow thud just barely beating against his fingertips. He breathes out a sigh of relief, determined to think that any sign of life, no matter how weak, is better than none at all. He grabs Ren’s shoulders and turns the man on his back. His breathe sticks in his throat as he takes in Ren’s appearance. His face is slashed diagonally, a nasty reddened gash spanning from forehead to cheek, the wound cauterized by the weapon. Patches of singed bone peak through the blackened flesh. The knight’s robe is torn on his left side, abdomen and snow stained dark red, almost black in the low light. He can’t tell how bad the wound is, fearful that moving the soaked clothe will rip Ren’s skin and the half clotted blood away from the wound, causing more blood to spill from the knight’s side.

He is dimly aware of Captain Phasma and her troops around him, preparing the stretcher to lift Ren and take him to the Finalizer. Hux cannot recall a time in which he’s seen the knight so vulnerable, so entirely human. He has seen emotions, anger and rage and pain seething from Ren’s every movement, every word hissed out like it causes him physical pain to speak. He’s seen Ren submit under Supreme Leader Snoke’s power and influence, not questioning orders, only complying. But he has never seen the man so wholly broken.

The stormtroopers heft Ren onto the stretcher, graceless and rough in their handling of the still unconscious man. They begin to carry the knight to the Assault Walker. Ren’s right hand is hanging off the stretcher, bouncing in rhythm with the clank of the stormtroopers’ boots against the icy terrain. His head is lolled to the side, the whites of his eyes just barely showing through semi-closed lids. Hux again thinks of the feel of Ren’s hair running through his fingers as he follows Phasma and her troops to the awaiting vehicle. The ground shifts under him again, catching him unfocused and throwing him to his knees. He gets up with unsteady legs, walking faster to catch up to the group that hadn’t slowed when he had fallen.

The Assault Walker is impossibly cold inside, colder than the snow he had just been kneeling on. His pants are soaked and partially frozen. His shirt sleeves are coated in blacked blood. The second he is fully inside the Walker, the door closes and they are off. Logically, he knows they must hurry, must reach the Finalizer before the planet’s unstable core finally gives way to complete desolation. But everything feels too fast, too much all at once. Just hours before he had laid waste to five planets, used his perfect weapon to the full extent of its abilities. And now, now his beautiful weapon is crumbling under its own power.

He can see Ren out of the corner of his eye, hand barely grazing the floor where the stormtroopers had set him. Every forward movement of the vehicle’s legs causes a minute shift in Ren’s hand, a soft twitch of fingertips against the floor that Hux would not even see if he weren’t staring so intently. He walks over to the knight, gently lifting his hand and placing it on the stretcher. His fingers linger over the Ren’s hand a moment too long, a soft touch that he’s positive Phasma has seen. The rest of the stormtroopers are too scared, too terrified to do more than stare straight ahead in their seats. But Phasma is looking in his direction, a subtle inclination of her helmet giving away her thoughts. Hux says nothing, simply walks to the empty seat behind him and sits down, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall behind him. He’s uncomfortably aware of Phasma’s eyes on him. He’s even more uncomfortably aware of the body lying in front of him, the soft and slow thud of Ren’s heart against his battered chest.


	2. Chapter 2

Under the head of his compartment’s shower, Hux feels warm for the first time in days. He lets the warm water careen over his body, uncaring for how long he’s been standing under the spray. His fingers are shriveled and wrinkled but he makes no move to leave. The officer’s quarters on the Finalizer are luxurious compared to the rest of the ship. He hardly ever uses the facilities to their full capacity, preferring the simplicity of the lower rank commodities. He had climbed his way to the top of command, teeth bared and nails sharp as he went from average cadet to general. The shitty communal meals and rock hard bed are comforting reminders of all he has gained. He feels are though he can luxuriate in the shower to his heart’s content just this once.

Ren was in the med bay, whisked away from under Hux’s hands the second they docked on the Finalizer. Scrubbing his hands through his hair, Hux ruefully thinks just how lucky the medical staff is that Ren was unconscious when they brought him in. No doubt he would have had to be sedated, his temper always on the verge of explosive.

“Sir,” his droid says through the bathroom door, “You are being requested on the bridge.” Hux sighs, gouging his fingers into his eyes in hopes of relieving some of the pressure stemming from the ache in his head.

“Tell them I’ll be right down.” He regretfully shuts off the water, stepping out onto the cold tile. The towels on the stand next to the shower smell fresh and new. He scrubs one through his hair before tying it around his waist and heading into his quarters. The large bedroom is mostly unfurnished, small bed tucked in the corner closest to the electric fireplace. He makes his way over to the half empty dresser and pulls out underwear and socks. His closet is at least a little more stocked, fresh pressed black slacks and uniform jackets hanging all in a row. He pulls them out and dresses in a hurry, stopping only to slick back his hair in the mirror above the small table next to his bedroom door.

No one acknowledges him as he makes his way to the bridge, no doubt being called to some dreadful meeting about how spectacularly their grandiose plan had failed. His boots clink against the metal floor as he briskly walks past the med bay, willing himself not to think about the man currently lying in there, still unconscious as far as the last report had stated. Specks of dark, matte blood-spatter on his boots catch his eye as he walks into the bridge. 

“General,” Phasma greets, helmet for once off and sitting next to her on the table. Her blonde hair is short and sweat pressed against her head. Her face is nigh unreadable to Hux, but he can just see the edges of annoyance in her tightly pressed lips and hard eyes. He takes his place at the head, surrounded by officers and captains, all who are looking to him in regards of what to do next. He’s perplexed to admit that he hasn’t the slightest clue. He turns to face them, standing with his hands clasped on the back of his chair.

“General Hux,” Mave, his second in command begins, “Some insight as to what to do now would be helpful. Starkiller is gone, half our troops with it, and we’ve been informed that the location we are heading is classified.” Mave does not attempt in any way to control his anger. If his insight and militant strategy were not so invaluable, Hux fancies he’d enjoy putting a blaster rifle to the man’s head.

“Captain Phasma. Colonel Mave, officers. We’ve suffered a great set back today. An unfortunate ending brought on by unfortunate circumstances. As such, I have been given direct orders by Supreme Leader Snoke to make immediate headway towards his citadel. I will have no further orders for any of you until I speak with the Supreme Leader. We should be there in less than seventy-two hours. Carry on as you normally would.” A murmur of displeasure ripples through the officers seated at the table. He sympathizes with their plight, their annoyance, but does not care enough to go into more detail. He turns and heads towards the door, intent on discouraging any more words of outrage or anger until he has spoken with the Supreme Leader. He’s just out the door when Phasma catches up to him, helmet clutched in her hands.

“General Hux. Any word on Kylo Ren?” He thinks he sees mirth in her eyes, but he has so rarely seen her unmasked it is impossible to tell.

“Last report said he was stable but unconscious. Now if you’ll excuse me, Captain, I have business to attend to.”

“You haven’t gone to see him yet, General?”

“No I have not. Why?” He can feel the tips of his ears growing warm. He steels himself, projecting a vague look of boredom with Phasma and this conversation onto his features.

She does not respond, stuffing her helmet back on her head and turning towards the training rooms. Hux turns and walks back towards his room, focused on sorting out as much paperwork and orders as he can before they reach Snoke. He’s running through the to-do list in his mind when he passes in front of the med bay. He slows, thinks of Phasma’s implications, thinks of how easy it would be to stop by and check on Ren under the guise of a concerned comrade. He does none of that, walking even faster towards his room, pushing all thoughts of the knight to the back of his mind. He knows he has too much to do, too much of Ren’s mess to sort through before he can even begin to entertain those thoughts, though he knows they are thoughts that should never even be considered. The doors to his quarters slide shut in an unsatisfying click. He immediately walks to the bathroom, grabbing the towel he had earlier deposited in the laundry basket and harshly rubbing off the blood speckled on his boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Hux goes to see Kylo and has very inappropriate thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

It takes him almost an hour before he finally gives up attempting to get any work done and focuses his thoughts on Ren. The man has been a constant nuisance, invading his mind anytime he tries to work, anytime he tries to be productive. He had spent the last hour in his front room, work laid out in front of him on his desk, shuffled and stacked and reshuffled in anger. Promotion requests from commanders, panicked messages from higher up engineers and administrators all sorted and resorted. His restless fingers once again restack the files in front of him, eyes not registering the words on their pages as he moves them into neat piles before abruptly standing and walking out of his room.

A few low ranking stormtroopers move out of his way as he heads toward the med bay. He chastises himself for being so preposterous before. He’s the general and Ren is an important, questionably valuable asset to the First Order. It makes perfect sense that he would need to check on the knight.

The doors to the med bay slide open as he approaches. A few nurses give him wary looks as medical droids roll out of his way. He follows one of the nurse’s gaze down the left hallway. As he walks, he becomes aware of a loud racket the closer he gets to the suite that inevitably houses Ren. A nurse standing outside the door greets him.

“General Hux,” she whispers, voice hardly discernable over the noises coming from inside the room.

“I see he’s finally awake.” The nurse refuses to make eye contact with him, steadfastly staring at his boots.

“He woke up just, um, just moments ago, Sir. The doctor just left to inform you.”

“How much damage has he cause? Has he hurt anyone?” His tone is far more sincere than what he had meant to convey. In reality, he cares far more about the damage the knight is causing and the money it will take to cover his destruction. Training new medical staff takes time and resources and with the loss of the Starkiller, he is not looking forward to any more setbacks.

“A few droids, sir. He will not let anyone near him to check his wounds. I fear in his thrashing they may have reopened. The wound from the bowcaster on his side was deep. We were unable to fully regenerate it before he woke up.” The nurse shuffles, lets her weight rest on one hip and then the other, discomfort clear in her movements. Hux decides to be generous for once and put her out of her misery.

“I will talk to Ren. Keep his doctor on standby. You are dismissed.” The nurse bolts down the hallway the second his words are out, heading towards the exit and as far away from the knight as possible, Hux presumes. He readies himself to walk through the door when the loud noises coming from inside abruptly stop. Hux is unsure as to whether or not that is a good sign.

Hux gives the room a quick once over. The metal wall behind the bed is sporting a few fist size dents and a half crushed droid sits off to the side, but it appears Ren hasn’t caused that much damage. Hux laughs inwardly, thinking that this is perhaps the tamest tantrum he’s ever witnessed from the knight. Ren is sitting on the bed, feet on the ground and hands firmly gripping the sheets. He’s been stripped to just his trousers, torso bare and bandaged, hints of blood seeping through the saturated gauze on his side. Hux can’t help but think about how much he would enjoy having Ren’s hands clutching at bed sheets for very different reasons. He dismisses the thought as quickly as it came.

“Ren.” The knight does not look at him, face angled down towards the scuffed floor. His face wound looks better, almost fully regenerated by the medical staff. A rather prominent pink scar, one that will whiten with age, is all that is left of the wound. He’s loathe to admit just how much more rugged it makes Ren’s boyish face appear. Ren finally looks up, Hux dimly aware that he ought to be controlling his thoughts in the knight’s presence. He has no idea the extent of Ren’s powers, would doubt them completely if he hadn’t seen them at work over the course of the last few months. Ren’s eyes are harsh, pupils blown wide with rage and mouth thinned into a tight line. Hux thinks about how much he would prefer Ren’s pouty lips slack with pleasure before banishing the thought with the rest of his unmentionable desires.

“Have you spoken to Snoke?” Ren’s voice is softer than usual, raspy and deep but lacking the violent rage his eyes still hold. He locks eyes with Hux.

“We are in route to his planet now. He has requested that I personally bring you to his citadel so you can complete your training. We shall be there in just over sixty-five hours.”

“Personally?” Ren’s eyes have softened, their former rage and anger replaced by placid interest.

“Given the amount of trouble you have caused, I assume he wishes to ensure you make it to his planet in one piece.” He delivers the words as a jab, but Ren’s features do not change.

“And you’re the only one that can ensure that?” Ren breaks eye contact, gaze going back to the floor in front of him.

“It appears so. Now will you let the doctor resume his work? Your side is not yet healed.” Ren simply nods and Hux steps outside to get the doctor. The man works quickly, assisted by a few droids as he peels back Ren’s bandages and gets to work regenerating the wound. He can feel the discomfort rolling off the man, no doubt aware of Ren’s reputed quick temper. He stays and watches, amazed by the blank look on Ren’s face even as the doctor’s hands slip and jab the device into Ren’s side. Amazed by the almost serene look Ren has when the doctor starts to regenerate the worst of the wound where the bowcaster had pierced through the muscle. The doctor finishes, stating that with one more round of regeneration within a couple of hours, Ren should be healed enough to head back to his own quarters. Hux watches as Ren bandages his own side.

“I’m aware you’re fond of staring, but this is a little obvious, even for you.” Hux’s head snaps up to Ren’s face at the accusation. He thinks back, wondering if he has really been that liberal with his prying gazes.

“Yes, you have. Any time I take my helmet off.” Hux can feel his face grow warm with the conformation that not only have his looks been noticed, but so have his thoughts.

“I would prefer if you stayed out of my head.” He tries to keep his voice passive and uninterested but anger seeps into his words.

“Trust me, I would if I could. Your thoughts are loud, especially when they concern me.” Ren looks amused. Whether that be at the situation or Hux’s discomfort, he is unsure. He presumes it is probably a combination of the two. He finds himself at a loss for words, a rare occurrence. His anger is cumulating, hands clenched into fists as he fights to regain his ever present apathetic countenance. He sees a barley-there smirk on Ren’s soft lips, thoughts once again returning to the unmentionable desires he has attempted to bury. Ren’s smirk grows to a full, smug smile at that. He’s almost steadied his breathing before Ren speaks again.

“If you wouldn’t mind, General, I would like to rest now.” Ren swings his long legs onto the bed, lying on his back with a pillow scrunched under his head. Hux rakes his eyes over Ren’s long, lanky frame, eyes lingering perhaps too long on the knight’s pale chest and abdomen. Even with the bandages, Hux can see Ren’s muscles flex and relax as he shifts around on the bed in an attempt to get comfortable. Without a word, Hux turns to leave. He hopes he is not as obvious in his departure as he thinks, but the smile on Ren’s face as he leaves and the uncomfortable tightness of his trousers tell otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Hux is suffering and Kylo is enjoying it way too much.
> 
> Also! Remember how I said at the start of this that there was a possibility that I may write smut? Well hold on to your hats boys and girls and those that do not conform to society's gender binary, because this fic's rating is about to go up. :)


	4. Chapter 4

The coordinates he pulls from the Finalizer’s tracker shows that they have just over forty-six hours until they reach Snoke. Hux is still in bed after spending the last eight hours in fitful sleep, mind wide awake with the loss of the Starkiller and Ren’s acknowledgment of Hux’s baser desires to drift into sleep. He had returned from the med bay hard and angry, determined not to give into his body’s whims. He would not give Ren the satisfaction.

Instead he had sat in his front room, sipping at a glass of cheap Corellian liquor he had picked up some time ago on a supply run. He had never had a reason to open it before tonight.

He contemplates spending the next two days in bed, sulking until he is forced to meet face to face with the Supreme Leader, but knows that would do no good. Despite the setback, there are still planets to control, trade to regulate, and troops to train. None of that will happen without his order. He gets up, showers and dresses, and is almost ready to head to the bridge for an update when his droid alerts him that Ren is waiting outside his door.

“Let him in,” He calls, despite wanting the exact opposite. Ren strides into the room in his usual attire, robe noticeably more tattered and ragged than before, hood draped gracefully over his unruly black curls. His face is bare, mask having been left to melt with the Starkiller Base. Hux studiously avoids Ren’s eyes.

“General.” Ren’s countenance is relaxed, voice soft and warm, a stark difference from the garbled mess his voice scrambler produces. Hux notices a slight tension held in the knight’s shoulders and wonders how much of his lackadaisical attitude is put on.

“Ren. I take it you’re feeling better?” He regrets the question the second it passes through his lips. The corners of Ren’s mouth tip slightly into a smile.

“I am, General. Thank you for your concern.” Hux almost scoffs at the mention of concern but thinks better of it. Apathy is preferable to anger.

“What can I do for you Ren?” He asks after a beat. Ren has not taken his eyes off of Hux’s face. He thinks of Supreme Leader Snoke and wills the fire in his lower half to abate.

“I’ve been having some thoughts about your… thoughts.” His words are enunciated slowly, silken soft voice low as he steps closer to Hux. His movements are graceful as his robe just barely grazes over the shiny black tiles of Hux’s front room. He comes to stand directly in front of Hux, faces less than six inches apart. He’s taller than Hux, just barely, but the proximity forces him to look down, head tilted to fully catch Hux’s eyes. Hux adverts his gaze over Ren’s shoulder, staring at the stark white walls in front of him.

“And what thoughts of mine would those be, exactly?” He’s not sure why he asks, knows that egging this on will only prolong his torture. A small, traitorous voice in the back of his mind is excited as to where this could lead.

“You know exactly the thoughts to which I am referring. Tell me, General, how hard was it to refrain from touching yourself last night? You were so, _so_ hard.” Ren leans in closer as he speaks, smelling of mint and some other undiscernible spice that sets Hux’s mind ablaze. He shifts to meet Ren’s gaze, unwilling to be defeated so easily. Ren’s face is impassive, a mask of indifference. But his eyes, his eyes are blown wide, dark bronze irises swallowed up by pitch black pupils. He refuses to let his body betray his thoughts despite being rock hard from Ren’s gaze alone.

“I believe I asked you to stay out of my mind.” His words are quiet, much less menacing than he would be to anyone else who had spoken to him so crudely. Ren’s mouth pulls into that full, smug grin from last night. Hux swallows audibly.

“But General, it was so, so hard to keep out of your mind. It was like you were screaming your thoughts into my ear. I gotta admit, that fantasy you had last night about me bending you over, fucking you against the great table in the bridge in full view of the galaxy until you were begging and moaning on my cock, that really got me going.” Hux is certain his face is bright red and uncertain specifically as to when he stopped breathing. Ren’s teeth are biting at his plush lower lip, tongue wetting the red marks he’s just made. Hux cannot begin to articulate how much he wishes it was his teeth on Ren’s lips, or even Ren’s teeth on his lips. At this point he doesn’t feel inclined to be picky.

“But do you know what my favorite was? When you sat here last night, cheap liquor wetting your lips and dirty thoughts occupying your mind. Do you want to know which fantasy was my absolute favorite?” Hux is pretty sure he doesn’t but says nothing. He closes his eyes for a moment, steeling himself for whatever Ren is going to say before turning his eyes back to Ren’s gaze. Hux has an unfortunate assortment of fantasies from last night for Ren to choose from. “My absolute favorite was when I had you tied to your bed, flush and open, begging for my cock. But I didn’t give it to you right away. No, I used your mouth and you just moaned and moaned around my cock, so entirely enthused to be of service to me. You took it so well, like your mouth made to be used by me and me alone. And then finally, after I had had my fill of your hot mouth, I fucked you rough, just like you begged, until you were pleading with a tear-slick face to come on my cock alone. And oh my, how lovely did you look when you came untouched, screaming my name for the whole ship to hear, working my cock like a vice until I came deep, _deep_ inside of you. That one, General Hux, has got to be my favorite.”

A muffled moan escapes his throat as Ren’s honey-sweet voice breaks the last of Hux’s control. His trousers are pulled so tight against his erection he could cry, knees weak with arousal and need. He closes his eyes, convinced that if Ren keeps talking he’ll come in his pants like a horny, overeager teenager. He feels Ren’s lips softly against his ear.

“Oh, don’t mind me, General. Feel free to come whenever you’d like. You have my permission.” Hux stills, holding his breath as the touch against his ear disappears. He hears the click of the door and opens his eyes to find his front room empty, Ren gone in an instant. He stands immobilized for a moment, attempting to process what just happened with little luck as he finally exhales. He turns and runs towards the bathroom. He barely has his pants down or his dick out before he’s coming into his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Kylo decides to see just how much Hux can take.


	5. Chapter 5

It takes an hour before he feels sufficiently calm about his encounter with Ren. He cleans himself up, splashing cool water on his face and wiping the come stains off his black trousers. He takes a small, light meal before finally making his way to the bridge. He had taken so long composing himself in his room that it is almost time for his meeting with Ren, Phasma, and his higher up officers. He is unsure as to how he is supposed to conduct the meeting with a mask-less Ren sitting by his side. He is unsure as to how he will control his thoughts.

The bridge is busy, advisors and pilots bustling about the room. Hux has been so focused on his baser feelings that he has not checked in with the flight crew since his last meeting. Stars and distant planets pass as Hux stares out the window, content to let himself breathe a moment before heading into the meeting room. If he cared at all for sentiments, he thinks he would find the sight beautiful.

“Lieutenant, how is the ship doing on time? Will we be to Supreme Leader Snoke as advised?”

“General Hux, sir, we are making excellent time. Our course has been satisfactory. We will enter Supreme Leader Snoke’s orbit in roughly forty-four hours.”  He stares out the window a moment longer before turning towards the meeting room. Captain Phasma, Colonel Mave, and a few of the higher up officers are already seated at the conference table. Ren is noticeably absent.

Once again, Phasma has her helmet off, running her gloved fingers through her short hair in impatience. A pitcher of water sits in the middle of the table, condensation from the artificial atmosphere of the ship pooling against the black tabletop. He wonders if the others ever get tired of the constant shades of black and white and gray decorating the Finalizer. Perhaps a pop of color every now and then would boost morale. He scraps the idea when he begins to think of Ren’s black, tousled curls juxtaposed against his milky, pale complexion.

As if on cue, Ren stalks through the door, hood pulled down almost covering his eyes. His shoulders are pulled taught, the tension as evident to Hux as it had been in the med bay. Ren says nothing, greets no one, simply sits down in the chair directly to the left of Hux. The now healed wound bisecting his face peeks out from underneath his hood. Hux briefly entertains the thought of what Ren’s skin must taste like, how the scar would feel under his tongue. Ren spares him a sideways glance at the thought, pulling Hux from the confines of his mind.

“Thank you all for your attendance. This meeting shall hopefully be brief. Simply, I wish to update you on the status of our journey and hopefully answer some of your questions. We shall begin with our progress.” Hux dives into the report he had just received from his captain, detailing the classified nature of their journey. He focuses his mind on the numbers, factual figures to distract him from the weight of Ren’s gaze.

He is almost through with this portion of the meeting when he feels a soft touch on his left hip, a barely-there presence pulling him out of his headspace. His words slow a moment as his mind tries to brush off the touch. His gaze flicks over to Ren who is staring resolute at the wall in front of him. 

Hux resumes his speech, attempting and failing to ignore the growing pressure on his hip. He keeps casting quick glances over to Ren, mouth now drawn up in a slight smirk. Hux focuses on a drop of condensation making its path down the pitcher to join the pool below. He pauses more often in between words, taking deep breathes to control his temperament. He hasn’t sat down, preferring to conduct his meetings while standing in order to convey the power he has over the room. Given the interest his lower half is showing from the smirk on Ren’s lips and the touch on his hip, he may need to soon.

He turns his gaze to Phasma, praying to the Force or whatever is out there that his growing problem will flag before it becomes any more noticeable. He curses Ren in his head, hoping for once that the knight is listening to his thoughts. It seems as though he is now incapable of being around Ren without this happening. He studies Phasma, hoping to further derail his thoughts from Ren, but she is looking between them, eyes flicking from his face to Ren’s, she and Ren wearing matching sly grins. He wonders if perhaps he is the butt of some private joke, or if perhaps Ren had told her about what had happened in his quarters just hours before.

He finishes detailing the reports and moves on to answering questions from his officers. He begins to answer a poignant question about future plans to hinder the Resistance when he feels the pressure on his hip move slowly towards the front of his trousers. The closer the feeling gets to his erection, the harder he feels it press into his body. It is wholly unwelcome, the rough pressure against his dick quickly making him grow harder.

_If you want me to stop, just say stop,_ a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Ren says. He attempts to think _stop_ , to say it aloud even, but a hard press to his dick and the small part of his mind that is getting off on this won’t allow it.

“General Hux, sir, are you alright?” Colonel Javen asks, confusion clear in her face. Hux takes a deep breath as the pressure on his groin increases ever so subtly.

“Yes, excuse me, Colonel. I seem to have lost my train of thought.” He takes another steadying breath while replaying her question over again in his head. “While no plans have been finalized in regards to retaliation against the Resistance, I extend the invitation to you all. While further action must be approved by Supreme Leader Snoke, a multiplicity of ideas on the table is always prudent.”

The pressure on his dick starts moving up and down, slowly stroking him through his trousers. He fears his current state is evident to the table. He pulls the chair from behind him and sits down, scooting in until his abdomen is flush with the edge of the table. The confusion on the counsel’s face is predominant, Ren being the only one seemingly uncaring of his change in position. He has never once sat down in front of them.

“General Hux, I do not mean to overstep, but are you certain you are alright? This meeting has covered much. I think I speak for us all when I say we would not mind cutting it short.” Colonel Javen’s middle aged human-like face shows nothing but concern unlike most of the officers whom simply look annoyed. A particularly hard press to his erection causes him to lurch forward, chest and elbows smacking against the table in a loud thud. The water in the pitcher lurches as the table just slight slides with his movements. Ren is biting his stupidly pouty lip in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

‘Yes, yes. I am terribly sorry, Colonel. It appears I am feeling a touch under the weather, but the meeting may continue. As I was saying, any insight as to retaliation efforts is helpful. Are there any further questions?” Hux barely controls his grimace as three senior officers start talking at once. He tries to decipher their questions, but the strokes are getting harder and faster. It takes everything in him not to moan at the pleasure shooting up his spine.

It is then that he takes a moment to thoroughly assess Ren. The knight’s hood is still drooping over his eyes, lower lip still trapped between teeth. A small droplet of blood clings to his lip where his incisor has pierced through the skin. Ren moves his gaze from the wall to Hux’s face, Hux noticing for the first time just how black his blown out pupils are. They rake over Hux’s face, pupils dilating further as his teeth press in harder. Ren’s lust darkened eyes and bloodly lip send the last of Hux’s blood down south, the pressure combining with his thoughts making him so hard he’s certain he’s about to come.

Despite the grandeur of the room and the furniture, Ren and Hux are sitting only a foot apart. He had thought it prudent to have Snoke’s apprentice by his side during these meetings, to scare and intimidate the officers into backing Snoke’s plans. He is currently cursing that decision as Ren’s knee bumps into his, moving up and down Hux’s thigh in rhythm with the strokes on his cock.

The officers are yelling now, arguing and bickering about questions Hux has not heard. As General, he should stop their bickering, restore order to the counsel before things get out of hand and blasters are unholstered. But Ren’s knee stroking up and down his thigh has thoroughly ruined his reason, thoughts focused on the all the places Ren is touching him both physically and through the Force. Hux bites his lip to stop the moans caught in his throat, curling in on himself against the table in pleasure. He’s certain that while the rest of the counsel is attempting to stop the fight, Phasma is staring at them. They haven’t moved their eyes from each other, but he can practically feel her smug countenance from where he sits.

“General Hux, General! Order these men to stop at once,” He can vaguely hear Colonel Mave imploring.

“General, Lord Ren, truly, you must restore order to the counsel!” Colonel Javen is attempting to yell over Colonel Mave and the rest of the racket. He thinks he hears Phasma finally joining in on the fight, her deep voice booming over the others. Ren’s force grip on his dick is so tight it’s bordering on painful, stunted moans breaking off at his lips. He’s never had pain feel so damn good before.

“General Hux.” Phasma’s loud voice cuts through his concentration. He breaks his stare with Ren, turning to face Phasma whom is now looming over him, face scowling and hard. He slowly uncurls himself, sitting upright in his chair and finally realizing the extent to which his counsel has fallen. The three senior officers are still fighting, standing up front their chairs and in each other’s faces. Mave and Javen are attempting to talk them down, the rest of the counsel simply sitting back and watching the show. Hux mentally steadies himself to speak.

“Captain, yes, forgive me. My mind is a bit preoccupied at the moment. Counsel,” his voice booms the racket, the three officers immediately ceasing their argument as soon as they hear his address. The entire counsel turns to face him, to hear him. “This is truly barbaric. I expect better from you. When the counsel of the – _oh_ – First Order attacks one another like children, how are we to expect Supreme – _fuck_ – Supreme Leader Snoke to trust us?” The pressure on his dick speeds up monumentally, the pain turning to searing pleasure. “We are the First Order, the most feared and revered in the galaxy, and you would have us behave like animals? Are we as base as the Resistance? Are we really so low as to – _oh fuck, fuck_ – as to – _fuck, Kylo_ ,” he stammers, hands white knuckled against the edge of the table and forehead slamming down against it as he comes, Ren working him through the painful pleasure that starts at his spine before exploding over his entire body.

He attempts to catch his breath, the pressure on his dick now gone, Ren’s knee no longer touching him. He slowly lifts his head. The entire counsel is gaping at him, a few officers halfway out of their seats in what look like aborted attempts to help him. Ren’s face is calm, the blood on his lip smudged by his tongue running over his bitten-red lips. He lets go of the table, folding his hands in front of him and sitting up fully in the straight-backed chair. He clears his throat, resolutely refusing to fidget in his seat. The come in his pants is rapidly cooling, making his skin itch and shiver. He takes a deep breath.

“We will meet again fifteen hours before entering Supreme Leader Snoke’s orbit. Counsel adjourned.” Nobody moves, perplexed faces trying to discern the penalty for speaking up. “Leave,” he seethes. The officers scramble out of their seats, all heading for the exit. Phasma looks both annoyed and smug, putting on her helmet and waiting for the mad dash to the clear.

Ren is the first one out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started writing this fic, I had no intention to include smut, let alone something this kinky. Now here we are, five chapters later, with what basically amounts to over two thousand words of an exhibitionist handless handjob. 
> 
> These two will be the death of me. You're kudos and comments on this fic have been amazing. Thank you to everyone reading this. You guys are awesome!
> 
> Sidenote: My next semester of college starts tomorrow, so updates may not be daily, simply depending on how work and school play out. You have my complete promise, however, that this will be finished in a timely manner.
> 
> Up Next: Hux confronts Kylo.


	6. Chapter 6

He spends the rest of the day in one of the outer meeting rooms. After an awkward and uncomfortable trip back to his room, he changed into loose linen pants and a soft sweater. He put his comm on silent, postponed all his meetings until tomorrow, and informed those who needed to know that he would be out sick for the day, claiming he felt a bit under the weather.

To his knowledge, this meeting room has never been used. He sits in one of the chairs, wrapped in a blanket and facing the floor to ceiling windows. The passing planets and stars cast a strange technicolored glow across the room. Brightly colored reds and soft yellows linger in waves before he is left in almost impenetrable darkness. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the light.

He has not seen Ren since he had been left alone and confused in the conference room. He had hoped that after what happened, after the blatant lust and undeniable intimacy they had shared that Ren would at least acknowledge the severity of their actions. Not only were they unprofessional, but if any of the officers had figured out what was really going on, and he’s not sure how they couldn’t, there would be repercussions. Hux cannot imagine a world in which Snoke would be alright with his apprentice and top ranking general fucking during highly classified meetings.

He swirls the tumbler of whiskey in his hand, watching the way the red of the passing star’s light reflects against the amber liquid. He had poured the glass an hour ago but has yet to take a sip. He sniffs the pungent liquor, perking himself up as he begins to doze in the office chair. The stiff wood of the chair is killing his back, but getting up and returning to the real world outside this tiny room sounds even worse. He pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders, fist gripping it tight in anger. He’s slightly shivering despite its warmth. The inescapable cold of space seeps in past the heaters.  

Any attempts to locate Ren have been futile. He must have turned off his tracker and the security droids cannot locate him. He wants to scream at Ren, admonishing him for his carelessness, for the distinct lack of respect he obviously has for Hux. He wants to scream at him for leaving Hux to deal with their mess, for vanishing as soon as he had had his fun, not a word or touch in parting. For leaving him when alone is the last thing Hux wants to be right now.

“Fuck you, you pompous fucking ass. Why the fuck did you just leave? Did you really regret it that quickly? Why’d you even start this, whatever the hell this is, if you were just going to disappear the second you succeeded in humiliating me? Or was this all just a game to you, to see how much you can fuck up my life before going off to hide on Snoke’s planet for as long as he sees fit?” He screams the words out loud and in his head, hoping that Ren is listening from wherever he has vanished to. This wing of the ship is always empty. His words slightly echo back to him. He curses himself for not stopping it, for not telling Ren to fuck off when he had the chance. Hell, maybe he simply should have left him on the Starkiller or sent some lower officers to deal with him, regardless of the repercussions he would have received from Snoke.

He chucks the tumbler of whiskey against the wall next to him, furious for letting himself get involved with the volatile knight in the first place. The glass shatters, whiskey droplets running down the window where they have landed, shards of scattered glass twinkling in the starlight. There is no instance in which this could have ended without one or both of them getting hurt.

_Hurting you was not my intention_ , Ren’s voice resounds in his head. Ruefully, he wishes he had not thrown his glass until now, the voice only serving to further enrage him. The intrusion of Ren’s mind into his is startling, his presence easily detectable. It is uncomfortable, the knowledge of how easily accessible his thoughts are, splayed wide open and for the taking.

“Your intentions don’t mean shit, Ren. Your actions do, and your actions were pretty fucking clear.” He contemplates getting up to grab another tumbler beside the decanter on the table. He feels overcome with the need for destruction. Perhaps he is beginning to understand why Ren throws so many childish tantrums. Destroying something with your own two hands feels good, feels powerful.

_I did not mean to hurt you by leaving, I only needed some time to sort through the… event, myself._ Even in his head, Ren’s words are soft and deep, the hesitancy in his voice clear. He scoffs at them.   

“Oh fuck off, Kylo.” The name pleasantly rolls off his tongue. He rarely calls Ren by his first name, has always felt that lacked the respect Ren arguably deserves. First names carry too much intimacy, too much comradery in their designation. “Stay the fuck out of my head. If you want to have this conversation, then come talk to me in person instead of hiding behind your mystical Force bullshit like a coward.” He feels the moment Ren’s presence leaves his mind. He misses it the second it’s gone.

He sits and waits. If Ren has any desire to talk about this, he knows where to find Hux. They pass close by a planet bathed in lush greens and deep blues. He imagines it is warm there, the thriving greenery evident even from the ship. He misses being on a temperate planet, feeling the energy from a nearby star flooding the surface in its rays. He has not been on many in his life. He decides that if Snoke does not kill him personally for the utter failure of the Starkiller Base, he may take a vacation, some time off to saturate himself in warmth.

He hears the door behind him slide open, the stomping of boots against the metallic ground signifying Ren’s arrival. Hux does not stand, does not turn to acknowledge Ren’s presence at all. He simply stares at the passing planet, attempting to decipher the multitudes of various greens dotting its landscape. Ren moves to stand directly in front of his chair.

“Excuse me, but you’re blocking my view.” Hux finds his earlier anger all but dissipate at the sight of the knight. He simply feels tired. Tired of these emotions, these games that Ren is playing.

“You wanted to talk, so I’m here to talk.” Ren will not look him in the eyes, gaze transfixed on the wall, straight-backed and unbending. His eyes are suspiciously bloodshot, ringed red and puffy against his pale complexion. Whether that be due to emotions or alcohol is anyone’s guess. He did not think Ren was allowed to indulge in either of those things.

“No, I simply said if you wished to speak, that you ought to do it in person. Your actions were very clear, Kylo.” He curses himself for using that name again, for the tingle it sends up his spine. “I’m tired of your games. If you are finished with them, then that is all there is to say.” He stares at Ren’s belt, not bothering to assess the emotions no doubt displayed across the man’s face. Ren balls his hands into fists.

“If you think that is what this is, then perhaps my actions require an explanation.” He is vaguely aware of Ren’s hands on his shirt before he is lifted from the chair, blindsided by the knight’s quick yet graceful movements. He is turned, back slamming against the window where Ren has thrown him. Ren’s hands do not leave his shirt, gripping him tight as he is held in place, their bodies pressed together and faces just a breath apart. Ren’s eyes are wild, owlish and bright, lips pressed together in anger. He feels every inch of Ren that is pressed against him, the warmth of his body contrasted against the chill of the window. His shirt has ridden up, the scratchy material of Ren’s shredded robe rough against the exposed skin of his stomach. Ren’s face is swathed in brilliant greens and golden yellows and Hux has never thought him more beautiful.

“This has never been a game to me,” Ren whispers, barely audible despite their proximity. He has yet to process the implications of the words before Ren moves closer, soft lips grazing his own in a barely-there kiss. He parts his lips, perhaps to speak or utter surprise, but Ren’s lips are once against on his own, teeth nipping gently at Hux’s lower lip. He finds himself kissing back, kissing deeper and fiercer as Ren’s hands leave his shirt, running over his chest and neck before settling to cup his jaw. He sets his hands on Ren’s hips, gathering the loose fabric in his palms and pulling them impossibly closer. Ren’s tongue runs over his lip as he tries to deepen it further. Hux breaks the kiss, turning his head to avoid looking into Ren’s eyes. Ren nuzzles his nose into his hair.

“If this isn’t a game,” he begins, breathless and hating himself for being so damn logical. “If this isn’t a game, then what is this? What do you want?” Ren cups his cheek, turning Hux to face him, to look into his eyes. Ren kisses him softly once, twice, before smoothing back the hair that has fallen over Hux’s forehead, usual neat locks in disarray.

“I want this. I want what I saw in your fantasies. I want anything and everything you’re willing to give me.” Hux shudders as Ren’s thumbs brush against his cheeks. “I left because… I didn’t know what I wanted, wasn’t sure what you wanted. I panicked. But I know now. I want this. I want this.”  Hux is skeptical that the words are simply part of a game, part of some sick desire to watch Hux burn to the ground. But Ren’s eyes are bright and without guile, affection written across his features.

“Oh,” he breathes before soft lips are again upon his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Oh, I'm pretty sure you all can tell where this is going... :)
> 
> It may be a couple days before the next chapter is up, but I have all weekend free, so you can expect something by then. There will probably only be a couple more chapters after this one, so this should be finished by next week. 
> 
> You've all been so kind. Thank you so much for reading this!


	7. Chapter 7

He sits down on the table, hands gripping its edge and feet dangling where they don’t quite touch the floor. He moves his legs wider as Ren – no, Kylo, he’s Kylo now – moves between them, knees grazing hips where they just barely touch. He looks up through his lashes. The soft yellow from the passing star illuminates the contours of Kylo’s face, lips curved sharply upwards in the dim light. Hux wants to move, to inch his way closer to the edge, to feel Kylo against him. He wants to trace the curves of Kylo’s pronounced cheekbones with his tongue, wants those lips back on his own, but something tells him not to move. Standing straight, Kylo’s eyes look down, gaze locked on Hux’s. His face is harsh, almost appearing indifferent, but the glint of desire in his eyes and the tilt of his lips reassures him that Kylo wants this just as much as he does.

Kylo’s fingertips softly run up his thighs, inching slowly closer to the obvious bulge in his loose pants. He shivers, cock throbbing as Kylo just barely grazes over his erection before running his hands against the soft material of his sweater. The touch makes him want to moan, to break Kylo out of this trance he is in and beg him to hurry things along. Instead, he sits perfectly still, heart beating rapidly as Kylo’s right hand stills over it. His left travels up the curve Hux’s neck, thumb running up his jaw, down his cheekbone. The rough palm of Kylo’s well worked hands forces him to suppress a sigh as it cups his jaw, thumb tracing the ridges of Hux’s bottom lip. He parts his lips, taking Kylo’s thumb into his mouth, sucking at it softly. A soft sigh escapes from Kylo as Hux guides his thumb further into his mouth, tongue lightly tracing over it.

He closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Kylo’s hands on him. He feels Kylo grab the material of his sweater, hand moving away from his mouth and fisting in his hair, forcing his head back. He opens his eyes in shock, bites his spit slick lip to muffle his moan as Kylo’s grip tightens. The dull pain sends a rush of pleasure down his spine, Kylo’s hand leaving his shirt to grip Hux though his pants, fingers tight at the base of his cock to ward off the orgasm that is sneaking up on him way too quickly. He’s overjoyed that Kylo is touching him like this with his hands, not using the Force to bend him to his will.

“Tell me, General. Tell me exactly what you want.” Kylo’s honey-sweet voice sends a rush of want and need to his aching cock trapped in Kylo’s grip. The fingers in his hair loosen briefly, fingertips running through his short locks. Kylo pulls him closer, the hand on Hux’s dick the only thing keeping them apart. Kylo fists his hair again, harder and tighter than before, tilting his head back further. This time, he finds himself unable to stifle his moan.

“I think you know exactly what I want, Kylo.” Despite the voice in his head telling him not to move, he cannot help it. He slowly releases the white-knuckled grip he had on the edge of the table, moving his hands to rest on Kylo’s hips. He moves his hands higher, stopping at the belt, the blasted thing that is keeping him from getting at the smooth, pale skin of Kylo’s stomach. He unlatches its hook, throwing the damned thing to the side. His robe flutters open without the belt holding it tight against his body, scratchy fabric hanging loose from his broad shoulders. Hux dips his fingers under his trousers, slowly pulling the shirt away from where it is tucked. The grip on his hair tightens minutely as he frees the shirt from its confines, running his hands up the hard planes of Kylo’s abs. He’s dying to get his lips on the pale skin under his fingertips, mouth watering as he thinks of the way Kylo’s skin had tasted just moments before. But the grip on his hair won’t allow him to move closer.

“I want to hear you say it,” Kylo breathes, releasing his grip on Hux’s cock, running blunt nails down his thighs. Hux spreads his palms, encircling Kylo’s waist to pull him closer, just that much closer so Hux can get his mouth on him. Kylo bends, bring their faces just inches apart.

“I want you to fuck me,” he whispers against Kylo’s lips, hands gliding over the shifting muscles of Kylo’s back, pushing past his trousers to hold the swell of his ass. He pulls them closer still, grinding his dick against the bulge in Kylo’s too tight trousers, softly moaning against plush lips at the much needed friction. Kylo’s skin is warm against him, leeching the cold from his bones. The hand pulling his hair is gone in an instant as Kylo shrugs out of his robe and pulls off his shirt. Before he can get his mouth on the beautifully pale skin in front of him, he’s lifted off the table, hands under his thighs tipping him back to lay fully against the cool tabletop. He rips off his shirt and kicks off his boots as Kylo crawls onto the table, kissing his way up the newly exposed skin of Hux’s stomach and chest. Kylo stops when he gets to his neck, sharp teeth biting down just over his jugular. His back arches off the table, teeth and skin on skin ripping sounds from his throat. The danger of having Kylo’s mouth on him, this man whom has murdered before, again and again, makes his cock ache. Kylo softly kisses the mark he’s just made. He’s pretty sure the high collar of his uniform won’t completely cover it.

He fists his hands into Kylo’s dark curls, pulling him up to kiss him deeply. He greedily kisses the sounds from Kylo’s lips as they move together, only breaking away when Kylo pulls his pants and underwear off in one swift motion, leaving Hux blushing and bare beneath him. He clumsily tries to push Kylo’s pants down, to finally get his hands on his cock, but Kylo bats them away. He rolls away, sitting on the edge of the table to unlace his boots, leaving Hux breathing hard with want and slightly annoyed.

“Oh for the love of… please hurry the fuck up,” Hux says, running his fingers through his hair in impatience. Kylo simply huffs a laugh, letting his boots drop to the ground one by one and shucking off his trousers. The pale expanse of scarred skin makes his mouth water. He is covered in marks of violence and triumph and he is beautiful. He isn’t wearing any underwear.

Both finally bare, Kylo rolls back on top of him, putting on quite the show as he slinks his way up Hux’s body. Hux can’t help the smile that breaks across his face at the sight of the beautiful knight above him, something he’d only let himself image as inconceivable.

“What are you smiling at?” Kylo asks, nipping at Hux’s jaw. Hux lets out a breathy laugh, pulling their bodies flush together as Kylo kisses him deeply. Their cocks finally moving together makes his toes curl as he brings his legs to lock around Kylo’s waist. It feels good, so incredibly good, sweat slicked skin moving together, creating friction. But he wants more, so much more.

“I was hoping you’d think that.” Kylo bites down on his lower lip before sitting up, forcing Hux’s legs to sprawl out on the table. He reaches down and uses the Force to bring his robe to him, rooting around in his pockets before pulling out a small vial.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Hux groans, covering his no doubt reddened face with his hands. “Why am I not surprised that you carry lube around with you?”

“I don’t carry it around with me. I was simply feeling optimistic about my chances tonight,” Kylo replies with a toothy grin, moving to sit between Hux’s spread legs. “If you don’t want this, just say so.”

“I want this,” He replies probably way too quickly, balling up his sweater and placing it under his head. Kylo slicks up his fingers, bending over to place soft kisses on his lips. He fists his hands in Kylo’s hair again, deepening the kiss as Kylo brushes a fingertip against his entrance. He tenses on reflex, but relaxes into the kiss as Kylo slowly presses in, concentrating on the taste of Kylo on his lips, against his tongue.

He hasn’t done this, hasn’t felt the press of another inside of him since his days in the academy. Quick fucks in the showers or bunks between horny teenagers in need of a release. He doesn’t remember it ever feeling quite as good as Kylo presses fully inside of him, allowing his body to adjust before pulling all the way out, only to press back in moments later. He lets out the breath he was holding, urging Kylo in his mind for more, faster. Kylo acquiesces, pushing another finger in beside the first. It burns the way he remembers, the way he craves. The room, the table under him, all feel too warm as Kylo scissors his fingers inside of him.

He’s babbling, begging incoherently by the time Kylo has three fingers in him, pressing relentlessly against his prostate. He drags his nails roughly down Kylo’s back, dimly aware of the bruises Kylo is sucking into his neck, chest, across his collar bones and shoulders.

“Please, Kylo, please. Need you, please,” He stammers, coherent enough to scowl when he sees the smug grin on Kylo’s face.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Kylo says against his neck. His mouth doesn’t leave Hux’s skin as he removes his fingers, grabbing the bottle to slick himself up while sucking a bruise just under Hux’s jaw. He grabs Hux’s waist, positioning him just so before Hux feels the head of Kylo’s cock press against him.

“Oh fucking hell, fucking hell, Kylo,” He moans, unable to keep his curses in as Kylo presses inside fully, not nearly slow enough. He kisses Hux as he bottoms out, slow and filthy, allowing him time to adjust. “Move dammit. Fuck me,” He begs through clenched teeth. Kylo pulls out slowly, the head of his cock just barely inside before slamming back in and nailing his prostate. Hux whines, back arching and legs wrapping around Kylo to urge him on faster, harder. Kylo sets a punishing pace, slamming into his prostate on every other thrust. The table feels too hard under him and his sweater has been throw somewhere else, only able to stay on the table by clinging to Kylo. Hux’s eyes are watering, toes curling in pleasure as he pulls on Kylo’s hair, earning a low moan from the knight above him. It’s uncomfortable and hard, but so damn good.

“There, yes there. Fuck, Kylo,” He repeats, over and over without any real motivation behind his words. He cannot think of anything but the feeling of Kylo moving deep and rough inside of him. His cock is trapped between their stomachs, hard abs offering not nearly enough friction to make him come. He reaches down between them, fisting himself and rocking into his hand with Kylo’s sloppy but fast rhythm. “I’m gonna come. I need to come. Please, please.” He isn’t aware that he’s begging, that he’s awaiting permission from his knight until he’s given it.

“Then come for me, Hux. I want you to come for me.” Kylo barely has the words out before Hux is coming in his hand, spilling between them as he moans Kylo’s name. He strokes himself through his orgasm as Kylo pounds into him harder, sending him sliding up the table with every thrust. He lets go of his cock, come slick hands gripping onto shoulders to hold himself in place. He feels the sweat and come between them as their bellies slide together. He feels the moment Kylo spills inside of him, warmth filling him deep as Kylo buries his head into Hux’s shoulder, gasping for breath and burying his teeth in Hux’s neck.  

They lay there for a moment, Hux running his fingers through Kylo’s hair as they both come down from their orgasms. He holds his breath, way too oversensitive as Kylo slowly pulls out, flopping down on his back to lay beside Hux. He is tired, well-fucked, but uncomfortable on the hard table. He makes to get up, to find something to wipe the come off his stomach and in between his thighs. But Kylo grabs his arm, pulling him down to lay over him, head resting on Kylo’s chest.

“We should get up. Shower. Go to bed on somewhere that isn’t so damn uncomfortable,” Hux says, fingers drawing shapes into Kylo’s skin as he lays there, enjoying the warmth of Kylo under him. The lights that pass through the window cast Kylo in reds and greens, soft purples illuminating his sweat-sheened skin. He nuzzles into Kylo’s chest as Kylo’s fingertips ghost softly over his spine. He shivers at the feeling.

“We will. In a moment, we will,” Kylo whispers, head turning to stare at the passing galaxies. Hux simply sighs and closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: We wrap this story up.
> 
> Please forgive me for the time between updates. I had this chapter almost completely finished when my computer decided to eat the file and leave me with only the first three chapters of this fic. On the negative side, I had to rewrite this whole scene. On the positive, this turned out way better than my original draft. 
> 
> So please, enjoy your over two thousand words of sappy, smutty porn as my apology for taking so long.


	8. Chapter 8

He wakes up warm, a soft bed beneath him and heavy blankets on top. He cannot recall the last time he has felt so relaxed, too warm and content to worry about work or duties. He burrows further under the covers, pressing into the warmth behind him. He drifts in and out of sleep before giving up the notion. Blinking awake to clear the sleep from his eyes, he wills his brain to catch up with the rest of his body. He tries to lift his hand to push back the bangs swept over his forehead, but finds his movements restricted.

His eyes snap open, suddenly very aware that something is different. He scans the room, noting the bare walls and sparse furniture. It looks almost like his quarters, but the open closet in front of him is stuffed full of unhanged black clothing and there is no window to let in the natural starlight. It’s dark barring the artificial blue glow that illuminates the floorboards, soft light casting the room in cool, harsh tones. The bed beneath him is more luxurious than his little cot, the sheets and blankets softer and of finer quality. This is not his bed. This is not his room.

He turns his attention to the heat behind him, the pressure around his chest forbidding his movement. Kylo. This must be his quarters. As his mind shakes off the last remnants of sleep, he is reminded of the last few hours. Sulking in isolation that had led to being fucked senseless on a grand table inside the halls of the First Order’s greatest ship. The thought pulls a smile from his lips as he closes his eyes, soaking in the warmth of Kylo’s skin against his.

He fidgets, moving around in Kylo’s arms to face him. His face is calm, lax with sleep. His soft, even breathes almost lull Hux into dozing, but he fights the drowsiness. Shifting under the weight of Kylo’s arm, he brings his hand between their bodies up to Kylo’s face. He brushes the long, dark locks away from his eyes, running his fingers through his soft hair before resting his fingertips against Kylo’s scar. It’s surprisingly smooth, healed pink skin dark purple under the blue glow of the room. He softly traces the scar from forehead to cheek, a perfectly straight and symmetrical wound that only a lightsaber could make. He runs his fingers down the bridge of Kylo’s nose, feeling the bump from where it has no doubt been broken multiple times throughout battles and training. His fingers ghost over Kylo’s barely parted lips, feeling the warmth of his exhales before moving to count the constellations of freckles and moles across the expanse of his jaw.

Only when he’s moved from connecting the marks on one cheek to the other does he notice Kylo’s eyes on him. They look even bluer in the glow, dark eyelashes making them pop in the dim light. Hux’s fingers stop, hover just over his cheekbone.

“Hi,” he whispers. Kylo motions behind him, bringing the lights around them up to a soft, fluorescent glow.

“Good morning.” Hux presses himself closer to Kylo. They are both bare, hadn’t thought clothing to be worth the bother by the time they had stumbled into Kylo’s quarters last night sleepy and sated. Simply had stripped their ruined clothes and thrown them carelessly on the floor, falling into bed without further thought. He ruts lazily and without intent against Kylo’s semi hard erection, simply enjoying the feel of their bodies pressed against one another.

“How long were we asleep?” he sighs, running his fingers through Kylo’s hair. Kylo’s hand runs down the expanse of his shoulders, rutting harder against Hux, pressing them impossibly closer together. Hux can feel himself beginning to get hard.

“A good long while. I’d estimate about fifteen hours.” Hux’s nose bumps against Kylo, lips just barely brushing against each other. He’s surprised to find he isn’t concerned about morning breath. About the cum still stuck to his chest, hastily and inefficiently wiped off in their effort to get back to their quarters unseen. Hux can’t even remember the last time he had slept fifteen hours, let alone slept so well. He distantly thinks he should check his comm, check to insure that the ship hasn’t crashed and burned without his guidance this past day. He feels Kylo’s hands gripping his hair, now both fully hard and wanting.

He sits up, ripping out of Kylo’s arms as a thought crashes into him. His head stings from where Kylo’s grip has pulled at his hair, breath labored from lust and the anxiety that has crept in from the back of his mind. He turns, wide-eyed and gasping to look at Kylo.

“Fifteen hours. Are you sure? Are you fucking sure?” His voice sounds quiet, even to his own ears. He makes no attempt to hide his mounting anxiety, letting the figures add up in his head as Kylo nods at him, propped up on his elbows and looking bewildered and concerned. Fifteen hours. Fifteen fucking hours. No matter how he does the math, he keeps coming to the same conclusion.

“Nineteen hours. Nineteen hours until we reach Snoke’s citadel. Until you leave.” He’s sure he sounds like a mad man. Kylo slumps back on the bed, eyes trained on the ceiling, avoiding Hux. “Kylo, you fucking leave for who knows how long in nineteen hours.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hux stares, angry and distraught at the calm in Kylo’s voice. He thinks of getting up, of scavenging on the floor for his clothes and running back to his room to hide, but Kylo’s hand on his arm stops his from moving. “I didn’t want to mention it yet.”

“Didn’t want to mention it? Just thought you’d fuck me then fuck off to some distant planet for the foreseeable future?” He tries to sound angry, to channel the rage he’s feeling into his voice, but the words come out tinged with hurt and sadness. Distantly, he knows he is just as much at fault. He’s known Kylo was leaving. Known since he found Kylo bleeding out in the snow. He sighs, leaning back to sit against the wall. His anger is gone as quickly as it came.

“I do not want to leave,” Kylo says quietly, shifting to sit next to Hux. Without thinking, Hux grabs Kylo’s hand, linking their fingers together tightly. He’s no longer hard, pretty sure Kylo isn’t either, but the contact of skin on skin, wrists brushing together as Kylo gets comfortable on the bed, sends a rush of want down his spine.

“Snoke does not care what you want. You need to complete your training.” He can hear the harsh tone of his voice, the cadence reserved for General Hux of the First Order, and cringes. He rests his head against Kylo’s shoulder, rubbing circles with his thumb into the back of Kylo’s hand.

“I promise. I promise I will return,” Kylo says, burying his nose into Hux’s hair. They sit in the silence. Thoughts of duties, paperwork and orders, far from Hux’s mind. His hair is in disarray. He is bare and smells of sex and lust.

“You will go. You will complete your training. And you will be glorious.” He presses a soft kiss to Kylo’s shoulder, reveling in the taste of salt and skin. He feels Kylo press gentle kisses into his hair in return.

“I will return. And we will be glorious together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaannnd we're finished! 
> 
> Once again, please forgive me for how long this fic took to finish. Not only did I get swamped by school work, but my computer decided to eat this fic along with this chapter for a second goddamn time. Technology sucks sometimes you guys.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! You're all wonderful!

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://cptnbuckybarnes.tumblr.com)


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